


I need you close so I can dream (and close is still not enough)

by naivesilver



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Clingy Crowley, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Self-indulgent fluff, is this ooc? I don't know? I just wanted to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 04:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15987326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naivesilver/pseuds/naivesilver
Summary: Aziraphale reads in bed.Crowley is mildly jealous.





	I need you close so I can dream (and close is still not enough)

“Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale turned another page oh his book, blissfully unbothered as his eyes scanned the lines.

“Aziraphaaaaaale.”

Nothing. The pleading voice kept falling on deaf ears.

Its owner, though, would not be ignored in this fashion. Since whining had proved of no use, he resorted to jamming the angel’s side with a bony finger.

Finally, Aziraphale tore his eyes away for the book. “Yes, dear?” He asked, smiling condescendingly at his personal nuisance.

“Turn off the light” muttered Crowley. It would be a blessed miracle if the other understood what he was saying, since the demon was currently pressing his face against Aziraphale’s body, but he had no intention to change position. He was, deep down, still a snake: he would never be as comfortable as he was now, coiled around a warm and vaguely human-shaped figure under numerous blankets.

If that meant that his words came out muffled or that he would sooner or later be scolded for sticking his cold feet against the angel’s calves, then so be it.

“You once slept through a gunfight in your living room, dear, a simple light would never keep you awake” Aziraphale said amiably. “But I will turn it off at some point, don’t worry. After I’ve finished my book”.

“You said that with the previous book already” Crowley retorted. “ _Sleep_ , angel. There’s no book better than that”.

He knew that, from Aziraphale’s point of view, that wasn’t the case at all. The angel thought a night spent sleeping instead of reading an utter waste of time, especially if he had just gotten his hands on some rare piece of literature.

But since they were, for once, sharing a bed without infernal or heavenly duties keeping them busy _and_ without the impending threat of a new Apocalypse, the demon had figured that he would relent and indulge in one of Crowley’s favorite things in the human world. As in, a night of sleeping and good old-fashioned cuddling, as cheesy as it sounded.

Of course, it wasn’t meant to be. Crowley was being snubbed in favor of a book, again. And it didn’t even look like an exceptionally good book, from what he could see. Just an old paperback with a cracked spine.

As if reading his thoughts, Aziraphale tilted the book towards him, offering the demon a perfect view of the page he’d been reading. “Do you want to give it a try?”

Crowley squinted up at the unfamiliar lines of text. “My Italian is a tad rusty, unfortunately. I’ll let you get discorporated by boredom by yourself”.

“It’s rather interesting, actually. It’s about a small town where the local priest and communist mayor fight constantly about everything, but are actually good friends and have even fought side by side at some point.” Crowley couldn’t see the angel’s smile now, not with the book covering his whole field of vision, but he knew it had to be there, bright and a little mocking. “Sounds rather familiar, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, sure” Crowley snorted, burrowing further under the covers and against Aziraphale’s body. “Goodnight, angel. Call me when the priest decides that it’s time to sleep, okay?”

He closed his eyes as Aziraphale let out a small chuckle and picked his book back up. Then, he felt a hand land softly on his head, gently combing through his hair. Crowley leaned into the touch, counting it as a small victory. Now the angel had his attention equally divided between him and the book, and having been bugged enough, Aziraphale would soon relent, kiss Crowley behind the ear (simultaneously one of the prudest displays of affections one could think of and the one gesture that he enjoyed the most, go figure) and fall asleep with his limbs tangled with the demon’s. They would have that one night of rest, as if that feeble cocoon of blankets could protect them from intervention by Up Above and Down Below.

All would be well.

**Author's Note:**

> I should be studying, therefore I write self-indulgent cuddles between two idiots. Standard business.  
> Fun fact: the book Aziraphale is reading DOES exist. There are countless short stories about Don Camillo (the priest who has....unorthodox methods of keeping his community under control) and Peppone (the communist mayor who ostensibly doesn't believe in God but actually does, just a smidge), best friends who clash every other day. They're the reason my sense of humor is what it is in Italian, and the resemblance with these two was too good to pass.  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
